Still Flamin'
by schwartzibrow
Summary: COMPLETE. Remember Flamin? It's got a sequel. And I wouldn't pass this one up. Schwartzibrow knows what Schwartzibrow is doing.
1. Default Chapter

You loved the original. You've been salivating in anticipation of its continuation. And Schwartzibrow doesn't disappoint.

Chapter One…

"Mia, hottie at four o'clock."

I subtly turned my head in the direction my best friend was indicating to.

"Sure," I agreed. "If you like that sort of thing."

"What sort of thing?" he asked, taking offence.

"Michael, the dude has a unibrow for Christ's sake."

"So? Those things can be fixed. And anyway, it just means he has a strong character. At least that's what last months Cosmo said."

"Whatever," I mumbled, lying back down on my beach towel and stretching out in the sun.

Michael muttered something about strong characters or something, before lying down beside me.

Having a guy best friend is so cool. Sure, I still have Lilly, but Lilly and I never sunbake in Central Park, perving on hot guys that walk past. Lilly's more into doing actually productive things. She says that if Michael and I spent as much time volunteering down at the Homeless shelter, as we do mucking around, there'd be no homeless people left.

She's highly exaggerating, of course. And Michael and I do help out at the homeless shelter. We just like to have a little fun too. Is that so wrong?

"So how's Max?" I asked him, turning on my side and propping myself up on my elbow to look at him.

He did the same thing. "He's fine," he said, adding a little sigh. "But we don't get to see each other that much. School's taking up so much of his time. I thought I was going to be studying too much for a proper relationship, but it's the other way around. He's taking it so seriously, and it just makes it so hard."

Michael and his boyfriend Max are both freshman in College. Michael goes to Columbia, not that far away, while Max is at Stillton, just outside of the city.

Michael's right about having no time while at College. He and I hardly ever have time to see each other, so I don't know what it'd be like with two College schedules.

"He did say though," Michael looked at me with a wily grin. "That Leaves has never been as happy as he's been these past few months."

"Really?" I squeaked. My face broke out in a huge, goofy grin. But I don't care. "I'm happy too. I really didn't think I could feel this way so soon, but things are just so great. They really are."

Michael sat up and swung his arm around me. "It's because you deserve it, beautiful. You're one of the best, kindest people I know. And if you weren't happy, then I could never be."

"Stop it," I said, poking him. "You're gonna make me cry."

"So long as they're happy tears," he replied.

We lay back down to soak up the last bit of sunlight. Now that Summer is well and truly over, these will be the last days for lounging in the sun. We're trying to make the most of it.

I got home a few hours later to find Leaves was waiting at my door.

"Hi," I said, grinning uncontrollably. "What're you doing out here? Mom and Mr. G are inside, you could've waited in there."

"Nah," he said, kissing me on the lips. "I'm fine out here." He kissed me again, longer this time.

"Did we have plans tonight?" I asked, hoping I hadn't forgotten something important.

"Nope, I was just bored at home, and thought I'd come see you. Is that a bad idea?"

"Not at all. Come in."

I led him inside and into the kitchen. Mom, Mr. G and Rocky were eating dinner at the kitchen table.

"Hi, honey," mom said when she saw me. "I wasn't expecting you home for dinner, but there's plenty, you know I always order too much. Do you want to stay, Leaves?"

"Sure," he replied, grabbing a plate before I even got the chance to say that we weren't hungry.

"I guess so," I said, grabbing a plate for myself and sitting down.

Finally, after Leaves finished off all the Chinese food plus a tub of choc-mint ice cream, we got up and crashed on the couch while mom and Mr. G went to bed.

"Wanna watch a movie?" he asked, rubbing my stomach softly.

"Sure, your choice."

He grinned and jumped up.

"Wait!" I said quickly. "I changed my mind. It's your choice, but anything except Almost Famous."

"Mia," he drawled out my name. "You know I love that movie."

"I do know. And I used to like it too, but then you made me watch it seventeen times in one week, and now, surprisingly, I don't like it so much."

He fell back down on the couch next to me. "Hmph, fine then. It's your choice, 'cause I don't want to watch anything else."

"Poor baby," I said sarcastically, patting him on the head. Then I jumped up and chose a movie of my own choice.

He soon cheered up when Reese Witherspoon appeared.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked halfway through the movie. I was almost asleep.

"Um," I yawned. "Just homework."

"You don't need to do that," he said, slipping his arm around my waist and nuzzling my neck. "We can do something fun instead."

"I'd love to," I told him. "But I really can't. I have a Geometry test on Monday, and I'm already behind in that class. Even though we're only a few weeks into the semester and everyone said I'd find it easy. Ha! Yeah right."

"But, Miaaaa," he complained. "What am I supposed to do tomorrow then?"

"Why don't you see if Max is busy, you haven't seen him much since he moved out, right?"

"Yeah, I guess, but I'd much rather spend the day with my gorgeous girlfriend." He kissed me on the lips, as kind of a persuasion.

It worked.

"Okay, fine. I'll spend the morning studying, then I'm all yours."

"Great. Maybe we can watch Almost Famous."

Oh no. Not again.


	2. Adorable Wusses

"Miaaaaa," Michael wailed into the phone that night. I have got to hang around more self-sufficient guys.

"What is it?" I asked, sticking out my tongue as I tried not to smudge my toenail polish, though nine times out of ten it looked more like I had painted my toes, not just the nails.

"I never blew you off this much when I was serious about school, right?" Michael's seriously slacked off since he got to Columbia. I mean, he still makes great grades and all of that, but I guess it's easier for him since he escaped the pressures of Josh Richter and his homophobic fan-girls/jock buddies. Yeah, excuse me? I do believe that Josh is the one who showered with guys practically every day of his high school career.

Then again, Michael did have Max stay over when his parents went out of town one weekend. There is a difference, though—that being that Michael is openly gay.

I did see Josh's identical twin in the Gay Pride parade this year. So ya never know…

"Not really," I said. "I mean, you and I worked more around the you-and-Max schedule."

"So I blew him off for my studies? You think this is retribution?"

"I don't think he'd do that. You guys are in love. He's just busy. You can support that, right?"

"Of course I can!" insisted Michael. "I just hardly ever see him and when I do he's always got some place else to be. What happened to us being the losers of AEHS?"

I laughed. "He's still a loser. Just a studious one. We call those nerds."

"I hate nerds," said Michael moodily.

"Yeah," I said slowly, barely containing my laughter. "Especially Star Wars-loving, Calvin and Hobbes-reading, coffee-inhaling ones."

He caught on and chuckled. "Yeah, those guys suck. So what should I do about Max? I mean, I can't just sit around. He's not the only one wearing pants in this relationship."

Last I checked, Max's family has more Scottish heritage than Michael's. So unless he's been hunting for micro-minis at Limited Too, Max is probably the closest to wearing a skirt.

Why do I even think about this sort of stuff? Who else would trace ancestry to deduce who holds more power in a couple?

Yeah, that would be me. I totally wear the pocket protector along with Michael. And I shall don my cardigan proudly!

Moving on…this Max/Michael "crisis" is reminding me an awful lot of a certain other beautiful couple. "You should talk to Leaves," I suggested. "He's been going on about spending more time with me lately."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm so not going to my boyfriend's brother for a shoulder to cry on."

"Remember, I've got a waterproof shoulder," I said, laughing.

"I know," said Michael softly.

Leaves and I headed over to the park (I had managed to steer clear of Almost Famous, thankfully) and strolled along, kicking the foliage around (I don't like to say leaves—the common noun—overly much now. It tends to cause confusion).

I'm in heaven. I've been blissfully happy for months now. I've got great friends. I'm not failing anything. And I'm in LOOOOOOOVE.

Granted, it takes work to keep things up. If I don't talk to Michael, he starts to freak out and watch Clueless over and over again. If I don't study for hours on end, I flunk. And if I don't spend enough time with Leaves, I don't feel like I'm fulfilling my proper duties as a girlfriend.

Not that any of these things are a pain—excluding schoolwork, of course. Just…should it take this much to be happy? I mean, aren't there any better alternatives? Couldn't I live on a desert island with my boyfriend and have Michael on satellite?

I would definitely miss New York, though. Getting ice cream with Michael and then hanging out at the penguin house for hours on end just talking. Sometimes I think I spend more time around him than Leaves. Is there something wrong with that? It's not like anything could ever happen between Michael and me anyway. He's fully in love—with a guy. That might put a downer on any chance we have at an illicit affair.

Not to mention I'm perfectly satisfied with Leaves. Everything I ever lusted after for in Michael is totally compensated in Leaves' hugs, kisses, and snuggles. He's just so completely and utterly…_wow_.

"Max has been putting a lot of time into school lately," I said as we walked.

"Yeah. He freaks out over grades every once and a while. It'll die down."

"Michael's really worried that he's turned into the neglected boyfriend or something."

"Huh," was all Leaves said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Even though I knew very well what he was getting at.

"I just sympathize that's all."

"With the guy macking on your brother?" I said with a lopsided grin. I know how to get to Leaves.

Needless to say, he grimaced. "Dude. Don't even. I'm just saying he's got the right idea—"

"By kissing your brother?"

He glared at me and I giggled. "Sorry! I'll stop. Seriously."

"Good, because I'm not kidding. You hardly ever have time for me, between school and hanging out with Michael."

"I so hang out with you more than Michael." Am I seriously having this conversation? And is it possible that Leaves is jealous of Michael? He knows very well that Michael swings the other way.

But he does have a point. I probably spend the same amount of time with both guys. What's wrong with chilling with your best friend, though? Leaves doesn't even know about our…history. You know, the whole thing where I came onto Michael (more than once) and tried to woo him back to the hetero side.

I don't even know what I was thinking! Michael is SO much more fun when he's true to himself. For instance, before-Michael would've never baked cookies with me, and before-Michael never TiVoed Oprah for me, and he never, ever went shopping with me.

You know what they say about letting go the things you love, and they'll come back if they're meant to and all of that. Michael did come back! Slightly more flamboyant, but still, in essence, Michael. And that's just perfect for me.

Leaves was watching me worriedly, so I gave him a peck on the lips. "You're over-thinking this. How about I come over tonight and we'll hang out?"

"Hang out?" said Leaves, raising his eyebrows behind his glasses. "Would that entail…"

"Oh, most definitely," I said, smiling coyly. He kissed me again and reached for my hand, continuing our walk.

Something I've learned over the past few months—guys are definitely wusses at times.

Adorable wusses, though.


	3. Slight Backfire

Realising that maybe I need to pay more attention to my boyfriend than my best friend, I've been trying hard all week to do so.

I totally resisted the urge to call Michael when I was confused about what to eat for lunch (usually he'll offer some insightful suggestions on the cafeteria food), and when I watched The O.C. I didn't call him once to discuss it during the ad breaks.

But of course I can't ignore Michael when he calls me. I have to talk to him. It'd be rude not to. The point is though, I've really tried my hardest.

And in the process, I've replaced Michael with Leaves. I rang him after The O.C to talk about it, and what does he tell me? Not only did he not watch it this week, but he NEVER watches it. How could I have not known that he doesn't watch The O.C!

Am I really that bad of a girlfriend that I don't know what he does and doesn't watch on TV?

So now, this weekend I'm dedicating the whole time to him and I'm really going to pay attention to the little things. Suddenly just knowing his favourite colour, his birth date and where he grew up is not enough.

My cell rang and I glanced at the caller ID: Michael.

"Hi, what's up?" I asked after answering it.

"Nothing much. Max just told me he doesn't have time to see me this weekend though. So I guess it's just me and you. Movies tomorrow night? My shout this time."

"Uh, actually, Michael, I'm going to be spending the entire time with Leaves."

"Oh," he said a little dejectedly. "That's fine, I guess…"

"I'm really sorry, though." God, I feel horrible. "Maybe next weekend?"

"Sure. I mean, if you're not too busy then or whatever. I'll talk to you later."

He hung up before I could say another word.

Wow. Boy, do I feel guilty now. He's my best friend, and I feel like I'm snubbing him off.

I've got to find a balance between the both of them. Surely there's enough Mia to go around.

I stepped out of the limo on Friday morning to be greeted by Leaves.

"Hey, gorgeous," he said.

"Hi." It's still weird to answer to names like 'beautiful' and 'gorgeous'. I'm not used to it.

He pecked me on the cheek and grabbed my bag from the car. Then we walked hand in hand into the school. Lilly went off to find Tina.

"So, do you have time for me this weekend?" he asked tentatively.

"Well, let me see…" I said slowly, pretending to need to think about it.

"Come on! We can do anything you want."

"But, I've already made plans for this weekend." I watched his face drop and I smiled. "You see, I've decided I'm spending the _entire_ time with my boyfriend."

His face lit up. "You mean…me?"

"No. My_other_ boyfriend." I joked. "Yes you, you doofus."

"Just checking." He stopped walking and cupped my face for a lingering kiss. "Now," he said once he stood back. "About what I said about doing whatever you want…"

"Too late!" I said quickly. "You can't take it back now. It's my choice and that's the end of it."

He sighed. "All right. I guess I can cope with that. Just so long as there's a little snuggling on the couch time."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

As soon as school let out for the day, my phone rang.

Michael again.

"Hi, Michael."

"Mia," he sniffled. "Can you come over?"

"Michael, what's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Um, I just need that waterproof shoulder right now."

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can be."

I hung up and told Lars there was a change of plans. Then I ran to the limo without even bothering to tell Leaves what was happening.

I rang Grandmere as soon as I got in the car though. Leaves will understand my disappearance, but Grandmere won't.

"You're not coming for your lessons? I thought that Michael fellow was one of _those_ people."

I love Grandmere's level of tolerance towards gay people. She's so not rude about it.

Not.

"He is one of ithose/i people," I said tiredly. "I'm going out with Leaves, remember? Michael's just a friend, and right now he needs me. So I'm going."

"But you can't just abandon your duties to Genovia, Amelia!"

"Genovia will have to wait, Grandmere." I hung up.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, we arrived at Columbia. I ran all the way to Michael's dorm, Lars was right on my tail.

"What is it?" I cried, not even knocking on the door.

Michael was sitting cross-legged on his bed. Used tissues and chocolate bar wrappers were strewn everywhere; his eyes were red.

"Oh, Mia, I'm so glad you're here. Everything's gone wrong." He blew his nose and I sat down next to him, putting a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"What?" I asked soothingly. "What's gone wrong?"

"Max. I called him to ask him if he could spare even a few hours for me this weekend since I haven't seen him in ages, and he told me that he doesn't have time for me now, or ever. It's over."

Holy crap. So much for Leaves saying this would 'die down'.

"Oh, Michael, I'm sure it was just something he said in the heat of the moment. I'm sure you two will sort it out."

"No, we won't. He was serious about it. It's all over."

He started sobbing and buried his face in my school shirt.

"Shh," I said softly, patting his back. "It'll be okay…" What else do I say?

"Can I ask you something?" He pulled back and looked me right in the eyes. He looks like a sad puppy dog.

"Sure."

"Am I a horrible person to be around?"

"What? Why would you think that?"

"Well," he sniffed again. "Max obviously doesn't want to even make an effort to see me, and this week I've felt like you're avoiding me too."

Great. My Leaves plan backfires on Michael.

"Michael, I'm sorry. I haven't meant to avoid you this week, but Leaves has been feeling neglected, so I've just been making an effort to spend more time with him. I didn't mean to make you feel neglected."

He nodded. "So it's not something I've done?"

"Not at all. But you know what? I'm cancelling all my plans with Leaves, and you and I are going to have some fun."

"Really?" he beamed at me. "He won't mind?"

"Nope. I'm sure he'll be fine about it. He'll understand."

I hope.


	4. Old Flame

"You can't make it?" asked Leaves, almost sounding more bummed than Michael.

"I'm in the middle of a crisis!" I explained, peeking around the bathroom door. Michael was stretched out on my bed, the covers pulled over his chin as he stared dejectedly out the window. I'd put on Extraterrestrials in the Outback, but even that didn't seem to cheer him up. "I promise we'll hang out soon. But he _needs _me."

"I need you," said Leaves gently, melting me just a bit.

But, no! I have to take care of Michael. He's crying out for a helping hand, and I'm his best friend. This is my duty.

Plus, I hate seeing Michael in tears. He so doesn't deserve this. If it weren't for that idiot Max, Michael would be perfectly fine. I mean, since when is school so important that you have to dump a perfectly loving boyfriend for it!

"You weren't just dumped. I'm sorry, but I just can't ditch him. Has Max said anything?"

"Uh, no? Why would he say anything to me? I don't know anything. He's busy with…schoolwork."

"Leaves," I said sternly. "You suck at lying. What's going on?"

"You're blowing me off to pal around with Michael, that's what!"

Oh, no. He has so crossed the line. "You think I'd break our date just to hang out with my friend? This is important! I'm sorry if you don't understand."

"I'm sorry I don't either."

"Well, you wouldn't, would you?" I said sternly, though my chin was starting to quiver. "I'll talk to you later."

With that, I slammed the phone down, staring at the receiver for a moment. Were we seriously fighting over my ministering to Michael in his time of need? What a pathetic moron. Leaves, that is.

"Everything all right?" sniffled Michael as I walked back into the room. He picked up a crumpled tissue, dabbing his face with it.

"I hope so," I said softly, crawling under the sheets with him. "Feeling better?"

He took a deep breath and started back into his rant. "I just don't see what I did wrong. Was I too needy? Did I call too often? Should I have broken it off before I fell for him so hard? I mean, does it have to hurt this much?"

I rested my head on his chest and sighed. "If you really loved him, of course it's gonna hurt. Just give it time, you'll be all right."

"But, Mia," he choked, his grip around my waist tightening. "I don't wanna get over him. He'll realize he was wrong, won't he? He'll come back, right?"

"I don't know," I said honestly, smoothing down his curls. "Maybe it'd just be better if you moved on."

He broke down again, snuggling closer to me while I handed him more tissues. "This is so stupid. I hate boys."

That's funny. Wasn't I tearing up last year because Michael _loved _boys?

We'd been camped out in my bed for hours now, pigging out on ice-cream and discussing the advantages and disadvantages of having Brad Pitt as a husband.

"He's too perfect," said Michael. "Like a Josh Richter sort."

"But sooo sensitive."

"True. Except he's an actor. What if he was lying?"

"If you wanna know if he loves you so—" I sang.

"It's in his kiss, ah, that's where it is!" finished Michael, chuckling. "I love me some Betty Everett."

"So does Leaves!" I giggled. "He listens to that and Midnight Train to Georgia on repeat on his iPod."

Michael had fallen into a stony silence, though.

Ugh. How stupid am I? Mentioning the brother of the guy who broke his heart. Could I be any more insensitive? Could I be any more…masculine?

"How are things between you two?" said Michael after a minute.

"Well, he's still on about me spending more time with him. I honestly have more fun with you, though."

Fortunately, Michael brightened, resting his head on my shoulder. "Those Brodericks are jerks."

"Yeah…" I started to say, but then I caught on. How awkward is it gonna be to date Max's BROTHER after he just completely dissed my best friend? I mean, I don't hold with that sort of thing. Nobody puts Michael in the corner.

I love Leaves, though! I mean, he's sweet, nice, adorable, and funny. But then again, he's insensitive, somewhat mean, and bossy (not in a good way) sometimes. Plus, there's the bit where I can't seem to hang out with Michael and be with Leaves at the same time.

It's obvious that neither is happy with this arrangement, and there's only so much Mia to spread around. So I have to choose…

Old flame (heh, flame) or new love?

Best friend or boyfriend?

Oh, blast it. This is too depressing.

I scooped out a huge mound of ice-cream and stared glumly into my bowl. I can already tell that whatever the outcome is, someone won't be happy.

Someone besides me, that is. I'm doomed to be miserable.

Once Michael had fallen asleep, I crept out of my bed to alert my mom of my guest.

"Where's Leaves?" she asked.

I fidgeted. Thinking about Leaves was not something I wanted to do. Because I had come to a decision—I was gonna have to leave him. He's sweet and all, but if I have to choose, I choose my friendship with Michael. And none of the Moscovitzes have ever hurt Leaves—except for that time Lilly accidentally slammed the door on his fingers. But I'm fairly sure that was an accident.

"Um, Leaves probably won't be around any more," I said at last.

"Oh? What happened?"

"Just things," I said uncomfortably. "I'm gonna get back to Michael."

"It's a good thing he has you to put him back together. Tell Michael we're ordering in from Number One Noodle Son if he'd like anything."

See, that's what I like about my mom. She doesn't get all up in my business. Like I don't have enough problems without my mom sticking her nose in where it doesn't belong.

"All right, thanks," I said, hurrying back to where I'm needed.

And soon, the only place where I'll be wanted. I hope I'm doing the right thing.

Much more to come...including something you guys may not be expecting.


	5. A Bit Complicated

Leaves has called me a total of six times so far, and it's only four o'clock on Saturday. 

I answered the first time, but I just can't deal with him right now. I've turned my cell off completely.

Michael and I are now strolling around down town, window shopping.

"That's nice," Michael said with a sigh. "Those neck lines really suit Max."

"Look over there!" I said quickly, pointing across the road. There's nothing to see, of course, but I have to distract him from thinking about Max. So far, he's mentioned him in some way or another nearly a dozen times, and each time we end up in Starbucks, ordering coffees. I just don't think I can handle any more caffeine.

"What is it?" Michael asked, taking the hook, line and sinker.

"Oh, um, right there, in that store. Don't you see that jacket? It's nice."

"I didn't think you liked leather, because of the whole animal skin thing."

"Oh, is it leather?" I asked dumbly, because of course you can tell it's leather. "I didn't realise."

"I think it is," Michael said. "Let's go check."

We carefully crossed the road and walked up to the shop window.

"Yeah, see, it is."

"Oh, too bad. Come on, let's go."

I turned around to keep walking along the street but Michael never followed me.

"Michael?" I called behind me. "What's wrong?"

He's looking back across the street, at the store we were at only minutes ago. He didn't respond to my questions. I looked over at the store to see Max.

And not a solo Max, he's with another guy!

"Come on," I pulled Michael by the arm. "We're going."

"But…but…" he stuttered, an adorable confused look on his face.

"He's probably just a friend. There's a Starbucks around the corner, let's go."

I led him by the hand (rather reluctantly) into the coffee store. Then I sat him down in a chair and ordered our usual.

"I don't understand," he wailed. "We only just broke up! How could he have replaced me already?"

"I don't know," I said, feeling stupid for not being able to say anything else.

"Do you think they were together before we broke up? Is this new guy the reason we broke up?"

He started analysing the smallest things about their relationship. He was talking fast, and more to himself than to me. Eventually he stood up and walked out.

"Michael, wait," I called out.

"No, Mia, I need to be alone. I'll call you later."

"Michael, I don't know if being alone is really what you need right now. Just talk to me about it."

But he'd already stormed off, leaving me with Lars and two undrunk coffees.

As best friend, I feel it is my duty to tell the ex-boyfriend what an asshole he is for hurting said best friend.

I had Lars take me to Stillton first thing on Sunday morning.

I've never been to Stillton before, but Michael has talked about it enough, and I know which room Max's is.

I knocked loudly and prepared myself.

Just before the door opened, I almost ran away. I hate confrontations, but this really needs to be done. I owe it to Michael.

"Mia?" Max asked sleepily, rubbing his eyes.

"Max," I said bluntly. "Where is he?"

"Michael? I don't know. Didn't you hear we broke up?"

"Of course I know you guys broke up. Who do you think has had to be the supportive best friend? The shoulder to cry on? I'm not talking about Michael. I'm talking about the guy we saw you with yesterday. The guy you were probably cheating on Michael with."

I took a deep breath. It took a lot to say all that.

Max stared at me blankly.

"Oh, God," was all he said. "Mia, it's complicated. It really is."

"Everything is always complicated. I just don't get why you would hurt someone as sweet as Michael. If you wanted to be with this other guy, you should have come clean with him as soon as you knew. It's not fair."

"I know it's not fair. It's not fair to anyone. But you don't understand."

"I'm listening."

"Well, you'd better come in."

I hesitantly walked past him into his room, and sat on his bed. He pulled out the desk chair and sat down himself.

"That guy you saw me with yesterday," he started, taking a deep breath. "His name is Dan. He was my first boyfriend and we never really ended things. He moved away about a year and a half ago, and I never thought we'd ever see each other again. Keeping in touch was hard, so when I moved to New York, I didn't bother to tell him my new address. I didn't think it was going to work out, and I wanted to get out…And then I met Michael."

He stopped talking for a minute. His gaze is fixed on a picture of him and Michael on his bedside table. His face looks sad and solemn. I almost feel bad for him, but I won't let myself.

"But then I came to Stillton and Dan was here. It was strange, and there's still a spark. I can't deny that." He looked at me with a guilty expression, then he looked away again. "I've been so confused, and I've been making excuses to Michael because I haven't wanted to see him while I'm sorting it all out. I still don't have it sorted out, I don't know what I want. But I thought it was better to end things with Michael since it wasn't fair to him if I didn't know what I wanted."

Okay, now I do feel bad for him. He's not the asshole I've been thinking him to be. Sure, I wish he hadn't broken Michael's heart, but maybe it was the best thing to do at the time. I believe he had the right intentions.

"So what are you going to do about Dan?" I asked softly.

"I don't know," he said, his voice quaking a little. "I'm so confused, I don't know what to do. But I feel really bad about Michael, I really do like him…love him, actually." He took a deep breath. "I just don't know."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, I'm sorry."

He nodded.

I stood up and let myself out. Now what am I going to tell Michael?

Review! And there will be something you might enjoy in the coming chapters. So hang tight.


	6. Shakespearean Tragedy

My stomach's doing the jitterbug.

Michael's going to freak! I can't tell him. I refuse!

But he does have a right to know. I mean, here he is thinking this whole mess is his fault. And it _kills_ me that he's gone to pieces over something that's just out of his hands!

OK. I'm going to tell him…I just…well, I have to get up the nerve. It's one thing to chew out Max, but quite another to break my best friend's heart…again.

Ugh, I'm starting to actually miss the days when I'd avoid rooms I knew Max and Michael were in. They were all over each other…ALL THE TIME!

And now Max is just over Michael. Jeez, must relationships be so hard? I mean, we are, after all, only teenagers. We should be having fun! Not sobbing into pillows over stupid fickle guys who can't come clean about past relationships.

Speaking of relationships, I still haven't officially ended things with Leaves. Something tells me I should get around to that soon. Or else he'll keep calling…keep holding my hand…keep kissing my lips lightly and whispering that he loves me…

And all that HAS to stop! Because…because I so can't date a Broderick right now. The whole family is strictly prohibited. Plus, I'll bet Leaves carries the gene for cruelly ripping hearts apart. Which is why I have to break up with him first. It's like Michael is Mercutio and just cursed the whole Broderick family…which means Leaves has to poison himself and then I stab myself in the gut and we die together in the penguin house…

Wait a minute! Since when does Shakespeare run my life anyway? Yeah, I don't think so. I'm just going to somewhat kindly send Leaves packing and be done with it. Friends first, ya know?

With my resolve somewhat strong and my knees only trembling slightly, I corralled Lars into bringing me over to Michael's dorm.

Okay, how can Michael even STAND to be here? All these stupid little hussies and their jock boyfriends pounding freaking Sum 41 and Ashlee Simpson from their rooms as they guzzle down beer and shout at each other. Dear GOD!

I'm so never going to college.

Finally, though, I reached Michael's room. Being such a frequent visitor, I don't even knock any more. But I kind of wish I had just then.

Michael's roommate, Doo Pak, was sitting stiffly at his desk, glancing strangely over at Michael's bed every few seconds. I peered over in that direction too, noticing a large lump under the covers, shaking uncontrollably.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked in a hushed voice.

Doo Pak shrugged, turning swiftly back to his computer. He'd never been too receptive to Michael's homosexuality, choosing to spend most of his time at the library or museums or whatever. Hey, I don't blame him. Who seriously wants to sit around and watch two people making out like bandits? I don't know if Michael and Max have gone any further than that. Don't get me wrong, though—I can totally live without that knowledge.

It's gotten less awkward as time went by, but it's definitely still strange to see Michael and Max kiss and act all lovesick over one another. I mean, I did have a huge crush on the guy for a while (Michael, that is). Still, Michael's a fantastic friend.

Which is why I have to return the favor and figure out what the heck is wrong with him.

"Michael?" I said gently, nudging him. "Michael, are you okay?"

It took a bit of coaxing, but he finally poked his pretty little nose out from under the sheets. "I want to die," he said firmly, before burrowing back under.

"_Michael_," I said, grunting with the exertion of dragging him back out. "Just tell me what's up."

He replied, but it was muffled beneath the comforter.

"Come again?" I urged.

The sheets came down and Michael looked at me balefully, his lashes clumped and tear-laden. "I'm crap. I just wish…I wish I hadn't been born and then maybe everyone would be a hell of a lot better off."

About this point, Doo Pak stood and walked out, sighing heavily. It's just Michael's luck to be saddled with a homophobic roommate. That must be comfortable.

"What are you _talking _about?" I asked incredulously, lying down beside him. "Did something happen? Is this about Max?"

"He…behind my back…this whole time. Am I really that stupid?" Michael choked out, burying his head into my shoulder.

My arms encircled him as I sighed with relief (softly, of course). "Don't be ridiculous," I said soothingly. "I've never met anyone cooler or funnier or sweeter than you, and Max is a moron…how'd you find out?"

He sniffled, and I wondered briefly if I was going to be completely snot-covered by the time I left. "I went down to Stillton. I _had _to see him. And he was shacked up with…with…_him._ So I asked…and…and he told me. I'm sloppy seconds and nobody's ever going to want me. I just don't see the point any more."

"The point in what?" I asked softly. What do you say when someone goes off into one of these self-deprecating rants? Sometimes "No, you rule. Seriously" just doesn't do the trick.

"In trying to go against the grain. In…in trying to be happy or in love or whatever the hell I thought I was."

I was sniffling by now too. "But that's you, Michael! That's what made you happy!"

"I hate myself," said Michael bitterly. "I've never been more miserable in my life."

We lay there in silence for a few minutes. "I have a Bio test tomorrow," groaned Michael.

"Have you studied?"

"What do you think?"

"I think," I said, sitting up, "that you need a break."

"A break from what? School? Life?"

"Studying," I said simply, taking his hand and pulling him up.

"But I haven't even started," he said slowly.

"So we'll get you pumped for it. They're showing Giant at the Screening Room. I know how you love James Dean."

I looked at him hopefully, but his expression didn't change one bit. "I think I'm just gonna sleep," he said, falling back onto the comforter.

"And study?"

Michael just shrugged, closing his eyes.

"Call me later?" I said, watching him warily.

He mumbled some sort of affirmation and I left him to wallow. I met Doo Pak out in the hall and told him to keep an eye on Michael and to hide all the razors and pills.

I've got to end things with Leaves, and then I'll tend fully to poor Michael. He so doesn't deserve this. Couldn't Josh Richter be heartbroken for once?

Review, because we love you.


	7. Beg to Differ

Chapter Seven…

Time to rip off that old band-aid, I suppose. I can't really do anything for Michael until he's hit the ice-cream stage, and by the time he does, I'll be free of Leaves and needing a punnet or two for myself.

And there's no time like the present. I directed the limo from Michael's over to Leave's place, instead of the Loft.

"Hey," he said softly when he opened the door and saw me standing there.

I mumbled an uncomfortable greeting back, looking away from his eyes.

"I've tried calling you, did you switch your phone off or something?"

"Yeah, something like that. Can I come in? We need to talk."

"Sure." He opened the door a little wider and stood to the side.

"Are your parent's home?" I asked, looking around.

"Nope. I'm all on my lonesome…until you arrived."

He collapsed onto the couch and I sat on the other side, not as close as we usually would.

He noticed my distance and sighed. "Look, Mia, it's okay. You don't have to explain anything. I understand that things with Michael have been a little off lately, I spoke to Max today. And I'm sorry I've been insisting that you spend time with me instead. Can we just forget what's happened and move on?"

He sat up and scootched over on the couch until he was practically on top of me, nuzzling my neck.

I let him for a second, enjoying what I knew will be the last kisses. But then I had to stop him. Things have to stop right now.

"Leaves, I still want to talk," I told him.

"We just did," he said, his heart beating against my arm as I held it against him. "What's more to talk about?"

He sat back and looked at me, eyebrows raised.

"Actually," I said slowly, taking a breath. "There's lots to talk about."

"Do you mean about us?" he asked. "Or do you just want to go through the pleasantries before we get hot and heavy?"

"God, Leaves! Of course I want to talk about us. I don't…I just don't think this is going to work…"

I left it hanging there and watched his facial expression. He's hurt, I can tell.

"What are you talking about? We had a fight, it's nothing to break up over!"

"Well…" I thought for a second. "I beg to differ."

"You beg to differ?" he asked. "You _beg to differ_?" He stood up and walked over to the kitchen table on the other side of the room. Then he slammed both of his hands onto the tabletop.

I didn't say anything. What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do?

"Christ, Mia! Are we really breaking up over this…this crap? I don't even know what it is we're fighting over anymore! Please, enlighten me."

"Well," I stammered. "Basically, it's come down to choosing my friendship with Michael, or my relationship with you, and I'm sorry, but I'm choosing Michael."

He turned around to face me so quickly I thought he was going to get whiplash. "Why do you have to choose at all?"

"Um, because you aren't very receptive to my spending time with him. He's my best friend and you act as if I'm cheating on you by being with him."

"I told you I was sorry for that. I spoke to Max, he told me they broke up. And I'm sure he needs your shoulder to cry on right now, but when he's over it, you'll still have time for the both of us, right?"

"No, Leaves, I've made my decision."

He sighed heavily. "This is bullshit, Mia. You're making a big mistake. Are you punishing me for what my brother did?"

I looked away.

"That's it, isn't it? You're punishing me for Max's crimes."

"No, it's not about that…Not entirely anyway."

"What do you mean?"

God, I've gone and dug myself into a hole here, haven't I?

"Well, I will admit that the thought did cross my mind that maybe you would break my heart like Max broke Michael's…But that's not the whole reason, I swear."

"Mia," he said, striding across the room and taking one of my hands in his. "I'm not Max. I don't have any ex-girlfriends-or boyfriends- in my closet, okay? So the rest of this stuff, we can work through it. Together. Okay?"

He kissed me and I almost fell for it. But then I remembered my resolve and pushed him away.

"No," I said, more strongly than I felt. "I have to go."

"This isn't over, Mia," he called out to me. "I won't give up on us."

"You might not have the choice," I said before closing the door behind me.

I cried all the way down to the limo. I cried all the way to the Loft, and I cried all the way to my bedroom.

I only stopped crying when mom came into my room with the phone.

"Who is it?" I asked tentatively. I'm so not speaking to Leaves.

"Who do you think?" she asked jokingly. "Who else calls this late on a Sunday night? It's Michael."

Thank the Lord.

"Hi," I sobbed into the phone.

"Jeez, Thermopolis, you sound as bad as me. What happened?"

"I broke…Leaves…Over…Bad…" I don't know how much of that he understood, but I guess he just knew what it was about, a best friend vibe.

"Are you at the ice-cream stage yet?" was all he said.

"I think so."

"Then I'm coming over, because I've reached it too. I'll be there soon."

I hung up the phone feeling better already. Ice-cream will help too. And a good goss session with Michael. We haven't had one of them in a while.

**Author's Note:**

Next chapter is a doozy...


	8. Wallowing

How much more pathetic can you get than Michael and I lying on my bed, cramming ice cream down our throats and wallowing?

Yeah, add "My Best Friend's Wedding" and three boxes of tissues and you've got a winner.

I mean, snuggling with Michael just reminds me of the way Leaves used to come over during thunderstorms and cuddle with me on the couch till it passed over.

And Michael's cologne is totally the same as Leaves'—probably because I got it for them both at the same time. I'm a frugal shopper! There's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

And "My Best Friend's Wedding" just reminds me that Michael doesn't have a British accent…so I've got no chance at true happiness in the event that Adam Brody gets married and I can't manage to break them up.

"Are we losers?" I asked Michael. With my ear against his chest, I could totally hear his heart thumping in a nice, slow pattern, practically lulling me to sleep.

"Yup," answered Michael matter-of-factly, stroking my hair. "But adorable ones."

"How come no one else seems to realize that?" It didn't even feel like I was the one who'd ended things with Leaves. I mean, it wouldn't have stopped if he hadn't been so possessive and demanding. Didn't he understand that Michael and I need one another? I just didn't have room for a boyfriend in my schedule. At least not a boyfriend that could quite possibly stomp my heart into smithereens. Yeah, those dudes aren't even on the waiting list.

"Don't sweat it, kid," he said. I kind of wished Michael would remember to shave in the midst of all his angst and woe, because his cheeks are getting annoyingly scratchy. The scruffy image is cute enough when it's not rubbing against your face. "I don't think we're meant for this world."

"High school?"

He didn't seem to hear me, though. "Let's run away," he murmured in my ear. "We'll go to Paris, and we can drink wine every night and go dancing and flounce around looking like idiots in berets. And I'd get all the guys' attention by being the lucky man grooving with the gorgeous girl and you'd captivate them by being…you."

I loved when Michael paid me these unexpected compliments. It was something I hardly ever did for him. Not because I didn't have anything nice to say, but it's kind of hard to follow up sweet things like that with "Your hair's got great shine" or "What long lashes!"

And then I never know when he's about to pay a compliment, so I can't time my compliments away from his. That's what I hate about spontaneity. Besides the misleading spelling of it.

"Could we eat croissants?" I giggled. "I could get us some black-and-white-striped shirts. It'll be great."

"Marvelous," said Michael sleepily. "But seriously, let's do that."

"Go to France?" I asked warily. The only place I've been there is my dad's summer home, but I guess we could crash there while we figured out our way to Paris. Just watch out for pigeons and peddlers and all of that. Oh, and unicycles.

"No," he said, pointing at the TV screen. "We'll make a vow…if I haven't scared off all of your boyfriends by the time you turn 28, we'll get married."

"Are you sure?" I asked, my eyes wide. I mean, it wouldn't be so bad for me to spend my life with a beeeeeyoootiful boy, but Michael also happens to be attracted to boys.

"We'll grow old together. I couldn't ask for anything better."

See? Michael always knows the right thing to say.

"Would you even be happy that way, Michael? I mean, I'm not a guy."

"Obviously," said Michael wryly. "Look, I'm…I'm tired of guys."

"Guys are stupid," I agreed.

Michael chuckled. "We are, aren't we?"

There was a lovely bit of silence in which Michael took my hand in his, running his index finger along the line of my palm. "Fortune telling?" I giggled. But he didn't answer.

"Remember," said Michael quietly. "Remember when I first came out and…and you had that little crush on me?"

How could I forget? I'd completely humiliated myself and acted like a selfish, obnoxious little brat, determined to get her own way—unconcerned with the happiness of others. I acted like Lana…or GRANDMERE!

Maybe Michael and I will go to France this summer. I'm sure Grandmere would love one of "those people" at Miragnac.

"Um, yeah?" I squeaked in reply. "Wh-what about it?"

He sat up slightly, his hand still entwined with mine. "I wasn't mean about it, was I? When I…well, rejected you."

"Oh, no!" I gasped. "No! I was the idiot. I couldn't read the signs and then once you right-out told me, I still didn't leave it alone…so, yeah."

Michael just smiled, as he tends to do at my ramblings. "What I was getting at was…uh, when you kissed me…I was nice about it?"

Is he just doing this to embarrass the hell out of me? Because it sure seems like it. "Of course!"

"So, say your friend did the same sort of thing. How would you react?"

I looked at Michael for a moment, and then understanding washed over me. "Is Kenny coming out soon?"

After Michael finished cackling maniacally, he punched me on the shoulder and grinned. "Kenny can't even wear the same socks together. Don't insult me and my peeps."

"All right, homeboy," I smiled.

Michael was back to complete solemnity again. "But back to the, uh…"

"Kissing thing?" I volunteered, regretting it almost immediately. He could have very well been talking about socks!

"Yeah," whispered Michael. "If, um, if your friend were to kiss you…what would you do?"

I tried to see the connection between the two situations. "Is my friend a girl?"

"Noooooo, he's a boy. But he's kind of blown you off before."

Christ! "Does Josh planning on kissing me again!"

Now Michael just looked downright frustrated. "I plan on kissing you!" he practically shouted, mashing his lips into mine.

Well, then. I think I get what he was talking about. And I'm so not rejecting him.

But I must say, this is a _surprising _development.


	9. Possessive Much

Author's Note: By the end of the story, you'll fully understand the kiss (and those to come).

I woke up the next morning alone. Michael and I snuggled after that surprising kiss  
(and the few after that too) and I must have fallen asleep before him. I guess he left.

I sat up and got out of bed. There's a note on my computer screen.

_Call you later_

That's all it said, but it was enough to set the butterflies in my stomach racing. What does it mean?

Confused, I walked over to my closet to get out my uniform. Stuck on the doors were pictures of me with all my friends. Including Leaves.

LEAVES!

How does this affect Leaves? I mean, I know we broke up yesterday, it was the reason for all the ice cream and sappy movie that lead to the kissing.

But now there's the kissing to consider. Was it just something that happened between two confused, depressed and lonely friends? Is it something that Michael and I will never talk about again, let alone let happen again?

Deep down though, I know I want it to happen again.

Is that horrible? Michael's my best friend, and I thought I totally got over him when Leaves came along, but I guess I just replaced him with someone straight.

And it's not like I didn't like Leaves, maybe it was more even. But Michael's just…Michael.

Nothing and no one compares to him.

Oh, what am I going to do?

Maybe I should just leave the ball in Michael's court, and see what happens. Besides, I have school right now, and unfortunately, that won't wait.

"Mia, we need to talk."

That was Leaves, cornering me in the hallway on the way to homeroom.

"I think we've done enough talking, Leaves. I'm going to be late."

"Homeroom can wait," he said urgently, loosening his grip on my arm when Lars stepped forward. "This is important."

He was looking at me with his puppy dog eyes; begging me with them.

Damn him. He knows my weaknesses. He knows I can't say no when he uses his puppy dog eyes.

"Make it quick," I told him.

He scanned the hallway quickly. "Not here. Come on."

He grabbed my hand and pulled me up the hallway, towards the door that leads to the roof. Lars followed quickly, but once we began to climb the stairs, he stopped and waited downstairs. He knows we can't actually access the roof from here.

"Go on," I said, sitting on the top stoop.

He sat on the one below it and looked at me. "I want to talk about what happened last night."

Uh oh. He knows what happened with me and Michael?

"I don't regret it," I said quickly. "He might, I'm not sure, but I know that I wanted it to happen. And I'm not sorry that it did."

He frowned at me. "What are you talking about? What happened last night, and with who?"

Oh crap. He wasn't talking about Michael at all. He was talking about us breaking up.

"Um, nothing. No one. Nevermind," I said quickly.

"Mia, what happened?"

"Nothing. But if you're talking about us breaking up, I don't regret that either."

"We'll talk about that later," he said sternly, as if he's my father. "I want to know what else happened last night that you don't regret."

"It's none of your business," I said strongly, standing up. "You're not my boyfriend anymore, it's over."

He stood up too and held me back from walking down the stairs.

"I don't care if I'm not your boyfriend any more, I still want to know what happened. Who does it involve?"

"God, Leaves, possessive much? I told you I'm not telling you anything so just drop it."

"Is it Michael?" he asked, completely ignoring me. "Did something happen with you and Michael?"

I started to reply but he kept going.

"No, of course not. Michael's gay, everyone knows it. Nothing could have happened with him."

I don't know if it was the blatant use of the word 'gay' or something else, but I frowned at him.

"What?" he asked, frowning back. "You mean, it…it was Michael? Oh God, Mia, what happened?"

"Nothing, okay! Just leave me alone. Maybe it's best if we don't see each other at all for a while."

"Mia, wait," he called after me, but I was out of there.

I grabbed Lars and high tailed it to Algebra, since I'd already missed homeroom.

Lilly has been on my case all day. She thinks that since she's one of my best friends, she is entitled to knowing everything about me and my problems. But if I tell Lilly what's going on, she'll psychoanalyse me. Plus, she's Michael's sister. I can't talk to her.

What I really need, is an outsiders advice. Someone who's not related to anyone involved, and who has my best interests at heart.

I need Tina.

Blowing off French for boy talk is a common thing for me and Tina. But since things with Leaves have been pretty peachy until now, we've only ever really talked about Tina's problems.

"Why'd do call this secret meeting, Mia?" Tina asked when we reached the top of the stairs to the roof. "Things are going great with Pat right now, I've got nothing to bring to the table."

"Yeah," I said. "But I do."

"Uh oh," she replied, sitting down. "That doesn't sound good. What's up with Leaves?"

"We broke up last night," I told her.

"Oh no! Is that why he wasn't sitting with us at lunch?"

"Yup. We sort of had an argument about it this morning. But that's not what I wanted to talk about here. There's sort of…something else. Someone else actually."

"Another guy?"

I nodded.

"Already? Is that why you broke up? Because you're attracted to someone else?"

"No, not exactly. I mean, we did break up because of this other person, but it wasn't because I liked them that way and didn't like Leaves anymore."

"Mia, maybe you'd better just spit it out."

"Okay, well…"

Before I could even start to tell Tina about Michael, I felt my cell phone in my pocket start to vibrate.

"Hold that thought, Tina," I said, reaching for my phone.


	10. Exploring the Depths

I flipped open my phone frantically, aching for Michael's dulcet tones to drift into my ear.

But it was just the bitter croak of Grandmere. Wow, that's sooooo much better.

"Amelia!" she barked. "I hear you've dropped that useless plant boy of yours."

"Leaves?" I said tiredly. Even if I had dumped him, I still wouldn't stand for Grandmere calling him 'plant boy' again. She does it just to piss me off anyhow.

"That's the one. So you'll be needing a suitable escort to Lady Bolton's ball this weekend. And I don't want any more nature lovers, do you understand?"

"Who am I supposed to ask?" I moaned, hoping I'd get out of this if I couldn't come up with a date.

"If you haven't secured a proper boy by Wednesday, I could most certainly put in a call to William."

Oooooooh, could she? Michael would absolutely DIE—

Wait a tick. I know just the boy to ask!

Tina shook my arm urgently as I put my phone back in my bag. "So who's the guy? Tall, dark, mysterious?"

"You know him," I said, grinning in spite of myself.

"Oh, yeah? _Spill_. How'd it happen? Did you hook up?"

"We kissed a bit, but don't tell anyone, all right? I mean, I don't even know if it's a big deal. What if he's not making it a big deal? I don't want Michael to think—"

"MICHAEL!" Tina screeched, so loudly that I feared Lars would dart up the stairs with his gun at ready.

"Shhhhh!" I hissed, clamping a hand over her mouth. "Yes. Michael."

"But he's—"

"Gay. I know," I sighed heavily.

"I thought you were over him," said Tina, looking at me concernedly.

"So did I!"

"But you…you kissed?"

"We did," I giggled self-consciously.

"How'd it happen? I need details. Now."

I rehashed the mopefest and the resulted spit-swapping. Even now, it seemed way too surreal.

"You can't tell Lilly, okay? Promise me. She'd blow a gasket if she knew."

"Cross my heart," said Tina, still smiling. "Oh, I knew there was still hope for you! I mean, Lana was wrong about the whole fag hag thing! You guys have just been suppressing feelings."

"Yeah, I guess," I said, grinning at the thought of getting the best of Lana _and _kisses from Michael.

Ahhhhh, could things get any better?

Oh, they got better.

Michael rang that evening, just as I was coming in from princess lessons.

"Hey," he said, his voice just a bit sultrier than normal. "Did you have a nice day?"

"I'm having a nice day right now," I said, kicking off my shoes and falling onto my bed.

"Can I come over and make it nicer?"

"Be my guest," I giggled, toying with the phone cord as I fantasized about Michael's visit. What were we now? Friend with benefits? Boyfriend and girlfriend!

When Michael finally made it over, he didn't seem too set on discussing anything. Instead of exploring the possibilities of our relationship, he explored the depths of my mouth with his tongue.

"This makes everything better," he whispered. "I couldn't concentrate all day. Not till I talked to you…kissed you." He pecked my earlobe, his lips parting into a smile.

"What is this?" I asked slowly. "What are we?"

"Sad," said Michael firmly. I guess he saw my unsatisfied look because he elaborated. "We're comforting each other. That's not wrong, is it?"

"So this is about Ma—"

Michael interrupted me with a quick kiss. "No, this is about you, and me, and us being good friends, and…"

"Maybe more?" I asked, attempting to keep all the bubbly joy out of my tone.

"Maybe more," echoed Michael, burying his nose into my hair. We lay like that for a few minutes, with Michael humming 'Wind beneath My Wings' in my ear.

"Wanna go somewhere with me Saturday night?" I asked at last.

"Where?" mumbled Michael, his eyes fluttering open.

"Um, a ball?" I said tentatively, watching his reaction.

"Can I dance?" he asked slowly.

"Sure."

"Can we rent Star Wars afterwards?"

Omigod! A non-chick-flick! Maybe he really is swinging back this way.

"Sure thing," I said, right as he leaned back towards me.

Michael as a potential love interest isn't too different from pal-Michael. Ya know, except the mouth-to-mouth. But even that doesn't happen as often as I'd like.

I mean, I thought it would take a lot of getting used-to for me to shift from friend to girlfriend, but the making out seems more like an extension of our friendship anyway.

Is that normal? I'd like to think so.

I've noticed that Michael isn't as cutesy with me as he used to be with Max. I mean, there is the subtle flirting we've always done, but we haven't whispered sweet nothings, we haven't fed each other strawberries, and we haven't exchanged backrub services!

I think I'm getting gypped. Except for the kissing. The kissing is definitely up to par. Michael must've learned a trick or two from Max, because no one's laid a great wet one on me in a very long time. Not till Michael.

Of course, I've been keeping Tina up to date on the relationship, though I think I've thrown in a bit more mushiness from Michael than there actually seems to be.

Still, never mind. He'll totally pick up the slack there once he's fully gotten over Max and we've proclaimed our love to the world.

Till now, though, Michael and I will have to keep our love in the closet…NO! NOT LIKE THAT!

But back to what I was saying—I think we should come out as a couple at Grandmere's ball…or maybe the next day. Such big news should NOT be spilled in front of hundreds of reporters. They'd have it on the newsstands within minutes as me carrying Michael's alien baby while he cavorted around the city with Hilary Duff.

I wonder how Leaves will feel about all this? And Max?

Ya know what? They lost their chance. Adios, Buster—it's ova.


	11. Tearing Up Over Smelly Socks

Leaves used to complain about going to balls all the time. So it's a nice change to be going to one with someone who doesn't mind it. In fact, Michael's pretty excited about it.

"I haven't had a good dance in a while," he practically squealed at me when the limo pulled up. "So you better have brought your groove shoes, because I'm taking you for a spin on the dance floor."

"Okay," I said, with only an ounce of enthusiasm. It's not that I don't like dancing, but I just prefer the slow kind. You know, the gentle swaying, breathing in sync type. I like standing close and just being happy to be there with someone. The whole sweaty, bouncing on the heels of my feet and trying to keep up with crazy-dancing-Michael thing is just not my style. But I'll give it a good go.

"Amelia, you made it," Grandmere said to me, eyeing Michael suspiciously.

"Of course, Grandmere. I told you I'd be here."

"Yes," she said, gritting her teeth and pulling me aside. "But you didn't tell me that your date was _that_ boy. I thought he was one of _those_ people. You know, it's too late for me to call William, but I can still get someone else suitable for you now."

"No, thank you, Grandmere. Michael's perfectly suitable." With that, I turned and returned to Michael, who was talking to the DJ on the dance floor.

"Everything okay?" he asked when I reached him.

"Sure. Just Grandmere."

"She's still giving you a hard time?" He said good bye to the DJ and took me by the hand, leading me to the refreshment table.

"When does she not?" I asked, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Mia!"

I turned around to see Margaret, the only other young person forced to attend these things.

"Hi!" I replied. Margaret and I usually hang out when we see each other, we're pretty good friends now, but since Michael hasn't been to one of these balls before, she hasn't met him.

I turned to Michael. "Michael, this is Margaret. She's distantly related to the Spanish royal family." I turned back to Margaret. "And this is Michael. He's my--"

Michael cut me off. "Good friend. We're like best friends actually." He smiled down at me.

Okay, I was going to go with 'boyfriend' but if he wants to go with best friend, so be it.

"Right," I said, smiling back at him. "I've told you about Michael before, haven't I, Margaret?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Margaret's father called her over and she left us.

"What was with that?" I asked Michael once she was out of ear shot.

"With what?" he asked, frowning at me.

"You cut me off. Is there something wrong with me introducing you as my boyfriend?"

"Mia," he said slowly, taking my hand and leading me to the row of chairs against the wall where no one was around. "I just don't think we should be announcing anything to the world is all. I mean, you and I only just ended things with Leaves and Max, I don't think we should be labelling each other as anything other than friends just yet, okay? Not even to ourselves. Let's just keep it simple for now."

What am I supposed to say to that?

"Sure, I guess. We'll lay low."

"But that doesn't mean I can't do this..." He scanned the area quickly then pecked me on the lips. "…When no one's looking." He grinned mischievously at me.

-

The rest of the night went on much the same. I introduced Michael as my friend, and we acted like that in the presence of other people. Then occasionally, we would sneak off for some kissing when no one was around.

We danced to the slow ones, and to the fast ones. Michael had spoken to the DJ earlier about the type of music to play, and the DJ complied, much to Grandmere's dismay. Dance songs were not on her list of suitable ball music.

Eventually she got the better of the situation and the DJ went back to playing 'ball music'.

"Your grandmother is no fun," Michael said, stating the obvious. "Is it too early to get out of here? You said we could watch Star Wars, remember?"

"Sure, let's go."

We said good bye and high tailed it out of there. Fifteen minutes later Michael was popping some popcorn in the kitchen and I was finding the DVD.

"I found it!" I called out to Michael, pressing the eject button on the player. "It was right at the bott--"

I stopped suddenly when I saw which movie came out of the player. Almost Famous, Leaves' favourite.

"What is it?" Michael asked, popping his head around the corner.

"Nothing," I said quickly, slipping the DVD out and throwing it under the couch. "Nothing at all."

The microwave started beeping but Michael didn't go for it. He came over to me instead. "Mia, what is it? And don't tell me it's nothing, I know you too well."

Slowly, I fished the disc from under the couch. There's no point in trying to keep anything from Michael; he's right: he does know me too well.

Michael didn't need anymore of an explanation once I showed him the disc. He just put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me close.

"Hey, it's okay," he said gently.

"I don't know why it upsets me," I said, wiping a tear away from the corner of my eye. "I was the one who ended it with him, not the other way around."

"Break-ups are never easy or fun. And it's okay to feel crappy over something stupid later. I found one of Max's smelly socks under my bed last night and cried for an hour. If Doo Pak hadn't come back when he did I might still be crying now."

I cracked a smile imagining Michael clinging to a smelly sock, crying. He smiled back at me.

"So how about we just discard of this…" He took the disc from my outstretched hand and slipped it back under the couch. "And watch a movie that has no connections to either Broderick brother. Okay?"

"Okay," I agreed, standing up.

"I'll grab the popcorn."

With someone like Michael at my side, how can I be dwelling on Leaves?


	12. Morale Booster

About five minutes into the movie, Michael had me pinned down on the couch, his mouth moving feverishly over mine.

God, this is so wonderful. I mean, I had completely given up on Michael a few months ago, but now everything's absolutely PERFECT. Obviously, we were meant to be.

One thing about Michael, though, was that he…welllllll…he kind of skipped right over second base to glancing shortstop every now and then. It kind of makes me wonder—is my chest that unnoticeable? I thought all boys followed the baseball progression thing. I know Michael's not big on sports, but it would be nice if he didn't surprise me like that.

I guess he's just not used to the whole chest thing, what with his only real experience coming from an all-male relationship. No bras to unhook there…I hope.

"I've got a huge English exam next week," murmured Michael, pushing the hair out of his face. "I can't get out of the dorm room without feeling guilty—"

"So I'll be watching Extreme Makeover alone?" I finished, my stomach clenching at the thought of flying solo.

"No, you'll be sneaking into my dorm room and providing distractions, silly," chuckled Michael, brushing his lips against my forehead. "You're great at getting my mind off stupid stuff."

"Like what?"

"School, moping, Ashlee Simpson," said Michael, ticking them off on his fingers. "That's why we're friends. You know how to keep me happy."

A distraction. A morale-booster. Is that all I am? What about _sex goddess_? TOTAL BABE!

Michael _never _compliments my body. My clothes? Sure! But never once as he said "My, your hips are fetching" or "What perfectly gorgeous calves!"

For once, I'd like to be appreciated for my physical qualities. Does that sound shallow? Ya know what! Sometimes you just have to be a little vain. It's human nature.

I can't let myself get down about Michael, though. He's all I've got…and I don't want to be alone.

Ohhhhhhhh. Michael may not check out my legs or anything, but he's a hardcore worshipper of my lips.

The good thing about Michael is my mom and Mr. G totally don't expect us to be doing anything but rehashing the latest Sex and the City or gushing about Jake Gyllenhaal. Our relationship is completely harmless in their eyes.

So once they got home, we retreated to my room, where Michael commenced flipping through my old Babysitter's Club books while I checked my email.

I was just deleting some ridiculous forward from Tina when an instant-message popped up:

Enrique4Ever: Mia?

FtLouie: Who is this?

I suspected my cousin Rene for a brief moment, but he's got better things to do online than IM me. Well, if you happen to think ogling Lindsay Lohan is worthier of your time.

Enrique4Ever: It's Max. I need to ask you something.

OH, GOD! How dare he attempt to communicate with me when his poor, helpless ex is bemoaning his loss not five feet away from me!

Well, actually, Michael's now looking at my collection of nail polish with interest.

FtLouie: I'm not sure I want to talk to you right now.

Just as I was about to make my dramatic exit, he messaged me again.

Enrique4Ever: Please! It's important.

FtLouie: Make it quick.

Enrique4Ever: OK. See, I just wanted to know how Michael is. Is he all right?

FtLouie: He's absolutely fine. He's over you.

Enrique4Ever: Shit.

FtLouie: Shit?

Enrique4Ever: Do you think he'd be willing to talk to me? At least TRY and patch things up?

FtLouie: No. He doesn't want to talk to you ever again, understand?

Enrique4Ever: Is this from his mouth or yours?

Enrique4Ever: Leaves told me about the little thing going on between you guys.

FtLouie: I don't know what you're talking about.

Enrique4Ever: Mia, I just want the truth. Is there any chance he'd take me back? I made a mistake. I'll do anything to make it up, I swear.

No. No, no, no, no, no. This CANNOT be happening. Not when Michael and I were on the verge of a real, true relationship! Not when we were just falling in LOVE!

FtLouie: Max, I'm sorry, but it's over. You broke his heart. I won't let you do it again. He doesn't want you to hurt him again.

I was completely echoing some Lifetime movie, but I didn't care. I couldn't let things go to pieces now. I might sound selfish, but I did have Michael's best interests at heart. Max would just hurt him again, and I hate to see my friends in pain.

Before Max could say (or type, whatever) another word, I signed off and swiveled around in my chair to face Michael.

"Let's go to the park tomorrow," said Michael, resting his head on my knees. "We'll sunbathe and ogle dudes, just like old times."

Wait a minute! In "old times," Michael didn't kiss me! How can he check guys out AND nibble my lower lip so affectionately?

Maybe he's bisexual…

But that still doesn't change the fact that we're practically dating. And he wants me to come along and guy-watch with him! Something's not right there.

"Um," was what I said, instead of lashing out like I intended. I've got to keep Michael close if Max is out on the prowl again.

What makes that diminutive little jerk think he can just waltz back into Michael's life any time he feels like it? He was the one who ended the relationship! He chose someone else.

So why can't he just leave us be?

**Review? Please?**


	13. Ricky All the Way

What's better than lounging around on the grass of Central Park, ogling hot guys that walk past, while kissing the guy of your dreams at the very same time? I don't think even Dance Dance Party Revolution (which is mine and Michael's favourite game) compares.

"You have a thing against unibrows, right?" Michael asked, stroking my belly and indicating to a mid twenty year old approaching the water fountain.

"When they're that intense, yes," I said, clasping his hand with mine as it played with the hem of my shirt. Normally I'd be relieved for him to be reaching for my non-existent chest area, since I'm pretty sure he hasn't even noticed it at all, but not in public. Some things are private.

He grinned at me. "Sorry, I just love the feel of your shirt. What is it? Satin-polyester?"

Great. So he wasn't going for my chest in the first place.

"Um, I have no idea."

"Okay, there's one for you. He's walking right this way."

I turned around to see that Michael was right. This guy was smokin'. Brown curly hair, big brown eyes, tall and slightly muscular, and tan. The whole enchilada.

Is it weird that my boyfriend is picking out guys for me?

Or maybe it just means that Michael knows me better than anyone else in the world, and I can live with that.

"You know," I said, poking him playfully in the ribs. "I don't think that guy is right for me, he looks a little like you."

"And that's a bad thing?" he cried, grabbing my hands and pushing me down so he was on top of me, pinning me to my beach towel.

"Well…maybe."

"Oh, really? You know, you didn't seem too perplexed by me before," he said.

"I must have come to my senses. Or maybe I've just forgotten all about you."

"Do I need to remind you?" he asked, grinning from ear to ear down at me.

I nodded and he kissed me.

Our kiss was interrupted by the jingle of his cell phone.

"Hold that thought," he said, nibbling my lip as he stood up.

"Go," he said into the phone, not taking his eyes off me.

I stuck the tip of my tongue out at him in what I hoped was an enticing, get-off-the-phone-and-come-back-to-me kind of way. But obviously it wasn't since he spun around and started whispering as he walked off.

God, I have to stuff things up by trying to be all cutesy, don't I?

About five minutes later he returned, a little red faced and almost nervous.

"Who was it?" I asked, putting down the strawberries I'd been munching on in his absence.

He sat down next to me, but not on top of me like he'd been before. In fact, he was a little father away than he's been in a while.

"No one," he said automatically. "Telemarketer. It was nothing."

"Okay…" I said disbelievingly. "Strawberry?" I held it out to him, but instead of letting me feed it to him like we'd done earlier, he grabbed it out of my hand and shoved it in his mouth.

"Michael, what's wrong?" I asked.

"I told you, it's nothing."

"Well obviously it's not nothing since you're being weird. Come on, you can't keep secrets from me."

I leaned over to kiss him but he pulled back before I could even reach him.

"Look," he said. "I'm actually pretty tired, and I still have that exam to study for. Maybe this whole park thing was a bad idea."

"But the two o'clock Tae Kwon Do class hasn't started up yet? You remember Stevie? We haven't seen him in ages."

He smiled at the memory of the Sunday afternoon instructor. Poor Stuttering Stevie, couldn't control a class of high school kids if his life depended on it.

"I have to go," was all he said in reply.

Without even grabbing his picnic basket and blanket he left, leaving me alone with Lars.

"Do you want me to come over and distract you?" I called out hopelessly.

Either he didn't hear me or he chose to ignore me, he kept walking.

What was all that about? And who was on the phone?

-

I spoke to Tina about Michael's sudden weirdness through IM's later that night.

ILuvRomance: So you don't know who it was on the phone?  
FtLouie: He said it was a telemarketer. But why would someone selling air conditioning freak Michael out like that? I just don't get it.  
ILuvRomance: Maybe it was Max?  
FtLouie! I bet you're right. He IM'ed me last night to say that he wanted my help in getting back with Michael. But I refused to help him. Maybe he's going to try by himself.  
ILuvRomance: It makes sense.  
FtLouie: I wish it didn't.

My computer beeped and RickyAllTheWay appeared on my buddylist.

FtLouie: Michael just signed in. I'm going to ask him if it was Max on the phone.  
ILuvRomance: Be careful. It's a touchy subject and he's already being weird.

Good point. Even so, I double clicked on Michael's name and brought up a conversation screen.

FtLouie: Hey, Michael. How are you?  
RickyAllTheWay: I'm fine. Sorry I was a little shitty with you before.  
FtLouie: That's okay. Is everything okay now? Anything you want to talk about?  
RickyAllTheWay: Everything's fine.

Yeah, like I believe that.

FtLouie: So who was it on the phone before? Was it Max?

There was no response for a good minute. My heart pounded against my chest because it felt like I was doing and saying the wrong things. Then, finally, I got:

RickyAllTheWay: I gotta go. I'll call you later.

RickyAllTheWay has signed off.

WHAT?

Did I do something wrong?

Almost in tears, I brought Tina's conversation back up.

FtLouie: He signed off!  
ILuvRomance: What happened? Did you ask him?  
FtLouie: I asked and he ignored me, then signed off quickly. I don't get it. Why is he being weird around me? Did I do something wrong? Did he finally notice my complete lack of chest?  
ILuvRomance: Uh, Mia, I hate to break it to you, but your lack of chest is probably not of concern to someone who likes them to be flat.  
FtLouie: Are you trying to make me feel worse?  
ILuvRomance: No, I'm not. Sorry. But just think of the broad spectrum. I dunno, whatever his problem is, I don't think it's you.

Tina's lame ass attempt to cheer me up sure didn't work. I signed off Michael-Fashion, without saying much at all.

Then I curled up in bed and wallowed.


	14. Return of the Jedi

He hasn't called. He hasn't gotten online. He hasn't stopped by with 'Beaches' and Rocky Road.

I'm going to go insane.

And even more than this longing for Michael is the pure anger searing inside me. Who am I so upset with? Who is the cause of my clenched fists and gritted teeth? My hot tears and upset stomach?

That Mia Thermopolis idiot.

Yeah, you know the one. Always dreaming. Always screwing up. And NEVER getting what she wants.

Michael is so right for me, though! He has to be the One. Who else makes me laugh like that? Who else kisses me like he never wants to let go?

Come to think of it, there is one other person that fits the bill—but that's over. Done with. I gave him up in the quest for Michael and just when I was starting to get a firm grip he went and skedaddled off again!

Not that I dumped Leaves so Michael and I could make out and I could get my heart broken. No, sir. I thought I was being a good friend. I thought I was HELPING OUT.

Obviously, Michael doesn't feel the same way.

The phone rang and I jumped up excitedly, knocking it off the hook in my scramble to answer.

"Hey, dollface."

MICHAELLLLLLLL!

"Um, hi?"

"Whatcha doin'?"

Oh, so we're just going to forget about the fact that he's been shunning me for the past two days!

"Oh, nothing." Right.

"Wanna bring a movie over with your cute self so I don't have to do this paper any more?"

"Sure!" I squeaked. God, I hate myself. Have I always been this weak? I mean, was there ever a time when Michael couldn't manipulate me without breaking a sweat?

Not that he means to hurt my feelings. He's just being Michael. And I'm prostrating myself at Michael's feet and letting him walk over me.

Something has to change. I seriously can't spend another day as Michael's bitch…I mean, pregnant dog. (Keep it clean for the kids).

- -

Michael gave no sign of affection when he opened his dorm door later that evening. Just a "Hey, girl, I love your skirt."

I stood in the door for a moment, waiting for him to invite me in or crack some joke about Bush, but he just stood there, looking solemn.

"Whassamatter?" I asked, starting to panic just a bit.

"We need to talk," said Michael, attempting to stuff his hands into the pockets of his rather tight jeans.

"We do," I agreed.

"See, the thing is—" Michael stopped, arching a plucked brow. "What do _you _want to talk about?"

I took a deep breath and plunged in. "You haven't been talking to me. At least not about the stuff that we _need _to talk about. Like, why are we kissing all the time, huh? How is it that we can swap spit practically every day but you can't make time in your busy schedule to just give me an inkling about how you feel about me? I hate that I'm the only one trying. I'm the only one who seems to care about more than Sex and the City and French-kissing. Are we ever even going to go to France, Michael? And if we did, would it be so you could perv on guys while I'm left to throw croissants to the birds alone? I'm not asking for a lot…just to be a person to you again. Is that so much?"

His peat-bog brown eyes were bulging out of his head by then, and wordlessly, he opened the door the rest of the way to reveal a blurry figure.

I wiped the tears out of my eyes and saw him. No, not Michael.

LEAVES.

"What's going on here?" I choked out, trying to regain an ounce of composure.

"Um," said Michael, shuffling his feet. "Leaves stopped by. To talk with you, Mia. He—"

I didn't want to hear another word. He tricked me into coming over here so he could shove me off on some other guy!

It was then I realized that I'd been wrong all along. I've spent so much time pining after one or the other, but you know what! BOTH of them are losers, and totally not worth my time.

Not that I consider myself above them or anything…but why is it that I only get hurt? That _I _am the only one who EVER gets hurt?

Something's wrong with this picture. It's time to straighten the frame. And no, I'm not talking about Michael. He so obviously doesn't want me. Just my "hot body." Or rather, my comfort.

What kind of gay boy uses making out with his best girlfriend as an outlet for his pain?

OMIGOD. What if it hurts him to play tonsil hockey with me? This is Michael's version of slitting his wrists.

Don't I feel special?

"Don't go, Mia!" said Leaves, finally making a move towards me.

But I was already flying out the door.

- -

So remember how God hates me? Yeah, that continued on into the night, when I woke up to see Michael sliding under my comforter. "Hey," he said, resting his head only inches away from mine.

But I so wasn't swayed by his full lips or shiny curls.

I blinked the sleep out of my eyes as Michael started to talk. "I didn't mean to make you cry today," he whispered. "Leaves called and I thought it would make you happy. I was just trying to help."

"Well, don't," I heard myself snapping.

His forehead creased and he reached out a hand to stroke my hair. "Mia…" he murmured.

Yeah, I was not about to get into this again. Instead my hand shot up and whacked his away, eliciting a cry of pain from Michael.

"What was that for!"

"Get out," I hissed, gripping the sheets to my body as I pulled away from him.

"I'm only—"

"Save it. Just leave."

"We're frien—"

"I _hate _you," I said, loud and clear, just so everyone (well, me and Michael) knew where we stood right then.

His eyes filled and he choked out a little sob, dashing to the window and scrambling out before I could even contemplate what I'd just said.


	15. Tight Pants

Life sucks. Everything sucks. Michael doesn't want me, he never did. He's wanted boys and tight jeans all along.

I was a fool to think I could change him? Again? Damnit, didn't I learn from the last time this happened?

What is WRONG with me?

The sound of my not-so-silent tears brought mom into my bedroom early Monday morning. I'd only been able to get about two seconds of sleep after Michael left.

"What's wrong, honey? I didn't hear Michael leave last night, is everything okay?"

"No," I said bluntly. "Everything is not okay."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really."

Who wants to tell their mother that it turns out that the gay best friend they've re-fallen in love with wasn't making out with you every second he got because of the person you are, or even the sex that you are, but because he's simply lonely and looking to fill a void the easiest way possible? Yeah, so not me.

"Well," she retreated. "I'm here if you want me."

I responded by throwing the covers up over my head and sinking beneath them. Call me childish, I don't care.

Mom returned half an hour later to tell me I was going to be late for school. When I told her I wasn't going, she demanded an explanation or else I was going to school any way.

I considered telling her, I really did. And if it were last year, I would have. But now she's married to my Algebra teacher, and is incapable of keeping things from him. One of these days he's totally going to slip and announce my bra size to the entire class or something. How embarrassing.

So I can deal with my mom knowing about Michael, but not Mr. G.

Begrudgingly, I threw on my school dress and raced downstairs to the limo.

"So Lars," I said as we neared the school. "You understand the plan, right?"

"With all due respect, princess," he replied, shifting uncomfortably in his seat across from me. "I'm not sure if this is the best plan."

"Well, I can't think of anything else. So let's run through it again. Leaves is not to come within ten feet of me. You are to restrain him by any means necessary, and that includes use of your Glock."

He shook his head. "I'm not pulling a gun on a kid who is just trying to talk to you, Mia. There are laws against that sort of thing."

"Fine," I huffed. "But I'm not talking to him, and I don't want to listen to any rubbish he has to say either. The same goes for Michael if he shows up."

"All I can say is, I'll do my best."

Well he better. And it wouldn't hurt him to remember who pays him.

Not that I do directly, of course. But I'm sure I could have some influence over dad's hip pocket.

-

Lucky for Lars, Leaves hasn't so much as sneezed in my direction all morning. I forget if that's supposed to be a good thing…

And Michael hasn't shown his ugly butt around here either. Wow, I never thought I'd put the description 'ugly butt' any where near Michael's name before, but that's how angry I am at him right now.

How dare he use me like that, and then palm me off to someone else as if I mean nothing, NOTHING, to him?

I opened my locker to get my French text book, and a hand written note fell out onto the floor. Looking around and seeing no one suspicious, I bent down to pick it up and read it:  
_  
__Mia, _

_We need to talk. I've attempted to a few times already, but whenever I even take a step in your direction I get death glares from Lars. It's like he's planning on throwing me through a window if I say so much as a word to you. _

_Please talk to me. I owe you an explanation for last night. Meet me after school behind the library. _

_I'll wait all night if I have to. _

_Love always, Leaves _

I smiled appreciatively at Lars and folded the note back up. Here I was thinking he was going to be incompetent when it came to keeping Leaves away, and it's just the opposite!

Leaves' note doesn't change a thing, though. And if he thinks for a second that I'm going to meet him after school, he's dead wrong.

-

When I got home after Princess Lessons, I found a certain Broderick waiting for me. But not the one I'd been half expecting. He's probably still outside the library if he was serious about wanting to explain things.

"I don't have anything to say to you," I told Max, hurriedly trying to jiggle my key in the lock. "So if Leaves sent you, you can tell him from me personally to go to hell."

"Leaves didn't send me," Max said. "I haven't spoken to him in a while, he has no idea I'm here."

The door swung open but I didn't step through it. "So then why are you here? Did Michael send you?"

"I haven't spoken to Michael either." Max hung his head sadly. "Look, I just came to talk."

I hesitated for a second, looking from the Loft back to Max. To give in, or to walk away…

"Talk about what?" I asked finally.

"Our boyfriends," he said simply.

"I think you're forgetting the fact that neither of us have boyfriends right now," I told him almost bitterly.

"You know what I mean, Mia. Come on, have a coffee with me?"

I could do with a Frappe.

"You've got half an hour," I told him. "But let me just change out of my uniform first."

Max grinned and stepped into the Loft.

**Review! Only two chapters left to go...**


	16. Reeking and Longing

Max took me to Joe Muggs, wiping our table and seats off with a napkin before he deigned it appropriate to sit at.

"So," I said, wrapping both hands around my frappe. There is no way I was going to bust out a rant like that horrific one in front of Leaves and Michael. No. This time Mia Thermopolis keeps her lips shut.

"Michael and I used to come here and study," said Max quietly. "But once I got tired of trying to pound equations and stupid facts about Eisenhower or whatever into my head, we'd just talk about…everything. Did you know that he flunked a Calculus test when my puppy died? He spent the whole night comforting me instead."

He took another napkin and blew his nose. "I made a huge mistake," he said at last, looking down into his cappuccino.

Inwardly, I admitted that I had too. But I wasn't quite ready to own up to my mistakes out loud. Not when I was putting up my cool, uncaring façade.

"Why, though?" I found myself asking instead.

Max tugged at the collar of his polo, looking uncomfortable. "Michael's freaking brilliant. And…and…he's, like, the best kisser on the planet. He can get along with practically anybody. And nothing ever seems to faze him."

A small smile crept across my face. "You did."

His Adam's apple bobbed. "Ya know, he cried when I broke up with him—"

And many times after that.

"He asked what he had done wrong, and how he could fix it. And I just kept telling him that it was over. I'm the idiot, though. I'm the one who kissed my ex. I'm the one who couldn't tell Michael about Danny. I'm the one who sleeps with an old t-shirt of Michael's pulled over a pillow."

"He's perfect," sighed Max, concluding his sad little monologue.

"Yeah," I said, though my thoughts were on an entirely different guy. A bespectacled one, with a crooked smile, long eyelashes, and a cute little dimple in his cheek.

"Ya know," said Max, his tone growing more cheerful. "There's a certain loser moping around New York right now who I do believe desires your company."

"I made a huge mistake," I said, echoing Max as I buried my head in my arms. "He's got to hate me. How is he not even after me with a rifle right now?"

"Uh, because he loves you?" suggested Max, grinning impishly.

"He shouldn't."

"Don't be Leavesy. Have some brains, Mia! I had to throw him into the shower last week because he seems to think reeking and longing go hand-in-hand."

"I bet he was just too busy watching Almost Famous to sanitize," I said bitterly. If there was anything he loved more than me, it was that blasted movie.

Max laughed out loud at this, choking on his drink. "Wanna know why he watches that constantly?"

I only hoped he and Michael didn't have the same motive—fashion tips.

"Because you remind him of Penny Lane, duh."

"Um," was all I had to say.

SERIOUSLY! How COOL.

It was right about then that I felt extremely guilty about sitting there with the ex of my make-out buddy for almost a month and a half.

"Max?" I warbled, dangerously close to tears. It's just…he was being so NICE and FUNNY and I didn't even deserve it.

Oh, God. And I had to go and curse the whole Broderick house every night before bed. I'm certainly going to hell.

"I'm—I'm sorry."

Max's eyes expressed total understanding. "Hey, you were there for him. I wasn't. But, um, if you don't mind, I'm gonna go get my boyfriend back."

"Right now?" I asked. Did that mean I had to go talk to Leaves NOW? No time for pumping myself up with some delightful Hammer tunes and a Poptart?

"Nah, tomorrow. Plus, I have no idea what I'm going to say to him. I mean, what if he realizes that I'm not good enough? What if he won't take me back?"

I loved how scarily alike Max and I were.

"He will," I said, assuring myself at the same time.

We walked up to the register and Max slung his arm loosely around me. "Michael was right. You do rock. Muchos gracias, senorita."

"No, thank _you_," I said, watching as he covered my bill.

There's something I have to do.

And no, not dash madly over to the Brodericks' and kiss the hell out of Leaves. That's for later (I hope).

I've got to make up with Michael.

Make UP, _not _make-out. It's about time we learn the difference.

He seemed pleasantly surprised when I appeared in his doorway that evening, but didn't go for the usual hug or peck on the cheek. Instead, he nodded formally and invited me to step inside.

"I, um, I wanted to clear the air," I said, looking around at the chick flicks and angsty CDs that littered the floor around his bed.

"Oh, good! Me too!" said Michael, nodding vehemently, but not—thank God—making a move towards me. The last thing I need is Michael's gentle touch when I'm trying to set boundaries.

Not that we're animals in need of cages. We're confused. Sad. Lonely.

But not for long.

Michael broke the silence. "I can't not be your friend. Please don't make me."

One look in those earnest brown eyes and I was sold. "I wouldn't…I just…we need to talk about…stuff."

"Stuff," repeated Michael with a hint of a smile.

"Stuff," I giggled, feeling a glimmer of old times in the air. "And this stuff is kind of necessary if we're going to chill."

"Anything to chill," Michael grinned, though he did sound pretty serious.

"First off, I don't think it's the most terrific idea for us to use tongue in our condolences. And maybe looking for solace in one another could be more about comforting words than kisses."

Michael's face clouded over. "No more cuddling?"

I hesitated. "Probably not. It's not…not right. We've got other guys to do that with."

"We do?" asked Michael, searching my face carefully.

"Yes, indeed."

He shrieked gleefully and threw his arms around me. I was just about to reciprocate when Michael drew back as though he'd been burned.

"No more hugs either, I guess," he said sadly.

"I think," I said, actually contemplating. "That maybe hugs would be all right."

"God, I love you," said Michael softly. "As a friend, of course."

"Of course," I grinned. Isn't it funny? That would have induced gallons and gallons of tears mere hours ago.

With one more legal hug, I bid Michael farewell, hurrying back to the loft for major beautification. Do I have any Penny-Lane-ish clothing?


	17. One More Thing

**So...reviews were kinda lacking last chapter. And now here we are at the LAST chapter. Enjoy!**

Before heading over to Leaves' for operation 'Forgive Me and Take Me Back', I spent over an hour in the bathroom getting ready.

Face masks, hair cremes, moisturisers and plucking; the lot. So hopefully now, I'll look so damn gorgeous Leaves will have no choice but to pin me to the wall of his hallway and kiss me.

Right?

Oh God, what if I'm totally wrong about this? I mean, what if he's not going to take me back despite my efforts? After all, Leaves doesn't go for the whole beauty on the outside thing, he's more of an 'It's what's inside that counts' kind of guy.

Hopefully what's inside me is enough to lure him back too then.

Well, here goes nothing.

I knocked on his big brown door and smoothed down my skirt. I'd opted for a casual, natural look, so hopefully you couldn't tell how much it took for me to look like this.

Just as I was adjusting my bra, the door opened. I jumped back and dropped my hands.

Leaves looked surprised to see me. Surprised, and something else. I'm hoping for 'happy'.

"Mia," he said softly. "What are you…" He stared at me for a good minute. I didn't say anything, I didn't move a muscle. "Ah hell, screw it."

Before I could utter one syllable of my well versed apology, he grabbed me and mashed my perfectly lip-lined mouth with his.

I almost went for it. I almost lost myself in the moment and forgot all about what had happened to us recently, but then I remembered and pulled back.

Leaves' lips were covered in my lip gloss, and I could feel it all over my cheeks. There goes half an hour of make-up time.

"What?" he asked.

"Before we do that," I said, restraightening my skirt. "I need to say something. I need to apologise."

"Mia, I don't need to hear it. It's enough that you came, that you're here. I'm never going to let you out of my sight again."

He reached for me again but I stepped back.

"Mia…" he droned.

"Leaves, you may not need to hear it, but I need to say it. Can we just go inside and talk?"

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Sure. If that's what you want."

"Thank you." I stepped past him into the apartment and sat down on the leather couch.

"Are your parents' home?" I asked, looking around at what looked like an empty apartment.

"Did you come here to see them?"

"Of course not. I came to see you."

"Good. Because they're at dinner and a show. They won't be home for hours."

I nodded and looked down at my hands. Why are apologies so much harder when it actually comes to saying them? I must have practised this about a hundred times in my head while I was getting ready, and now I can't spit it out.

"So…" he said.

I looked up at him, catching his gaze with mine. "I'm sorry for everything that's happened. We broke up over something silly in the first place. I should have tried harder to find a balance between you and Michael. You're both so special to me; I don't think I can not have either of you in my life."

He nodded but didn't say anything.

I continued. "But at the same time, I think you need to be more understanding of my friendship with Michael. You need to be more accommodating to it."

Finally he spoke. "To your friendship with Michael, or to your relationship with him?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow and sinking back into the couch.

Damn, I was hoping not to bring that up.

"Look, all Michael and I have is friendship. Whatever happened with us, it was a mistake. I don't think that…"

"Mia, stop." He reached out and rested his hand on my knee. "I don't need to hear about what happened with you and Michael. If you're willing to move past it, then I am too. No explanation necessary."

I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Deal."

He smiled at me. "Is that all you have to say then?"

I thought about it for a second. "Um, I think so. Just the apology and uh, Michael."

As I'd been talking, Leaves had inched his way over to me and was now right next to me, almost on top of me.

"So can we get back to doing what we were doing before?"

"Sure."

He pushed me back into the couch and kissed me, running his hands through my hair and on the small of my back.

God, I've missed this. Not that Michael's kisses weren't satisfactory, Max was right about him being a damn fine kisser. But when Leaves kisses me, I feel something…more. Like he means it more.

"Oh," Leaves pulled back and looked me in the eyes. "I'm sorry too. About not being accommodating to Michael before. I'll try harder now."

"Leaves, shut up and kiss me again."

He pretended to look offended, then he cracked out into a smile. "Okay. But, one more thing…"

"Yes?" I asked impatiently.

"I love you."

He kissed me again before I could reply.

-

After school the next day we were walking around downtown eating ice cream, when we saw two familiar figures walking hand in hand a few blocks away.

They both look so happy, with Michael resting his head on Max's shoulder as they plod along, their hands joined and swinging between them.

"Should we go talk to them?" Leaves asked.

"Nah, let them be happy alone."

Besides, I'll get the goss from Michael later.

**Fin.**


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